


How do I wake my spirit cold?

by HistoriaGloria



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Can be read as Zolf/Hamid, Canon-Typical Hamid Panicking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Honestly I'm only at ep 56 but I love them, what is a timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoriaGloria/pseuds/HistoriaGloria
Summary: "They had been so careful, so cautious.They're well known enough that sometimes the London Rangers, We're Still Working on the Name, get noticed. And sometimes by people who don't like them.In all honesty, Zolf isn't sure why these people hate them; he didn't stop to ask questions."Zolf and Hamid get accidentally cornered.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	How do I wake my spirit cold?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I love Rusty Quill Gaming very much.  
> I'm only at the beginning of season 2, but I love them.  
> This has no set timeline, I just wanted to write Hamid being fun and feral!
> 
> Title from Spirit Cold by Tall Heights:  
> 'How do I wake my spirit cold?  
> That's a question ages old.'
> 
> Thank you so much to Kristsune for supporting my excited screaming and writing! Much appreciated!

They had been so careful, so cautious.

They're well known enough that sometimes the London Rangers, We're Still Working on the Name, get noticed. And sometimes by people who don't like them.

In all honesty, Zolf isn't sure why these people hate them; he didn't stop to ask questions. It had been a backwater pub that they had found, to Bertie and Hamid's distaste, but Zolf and Sasha were much happier. He had barely finished his first drink when one of the bruisers who was sat in the corner had come over to Bertie. Obviously, the man had immediately picked a fight about Bertie's... softer side in the Wilde article. Zolf had attempted to soothe the situation over when another man, who had come over to see what the ruckus was, recognised them. There had been some yelling about Other London, but Zolf had been distracted to say the least.

And then, they were outnumbered and one of the biggest guys had a weapon drawn and they were all being forced slowly back out of the tavern at sword point.

“Now, let's all calm down,” Hamid had said, with all his usual charm. But Bertie was furious. Of course, he was.

“You filthy peasants!” Bertie had roared and swung down his own sword and everything went to hell.

And somewhere in all of that hell, they had gotten separated. Sasha had melted into the shadows and bolted ahead. Bertie had fought but eventually ran after seeing how outnumbered they were. Hamid and Zolf had scattered down an alley, Hamid always pausing to make sure that Zolf was with him.

But it’s not a city they know well. Zolf and Hamid are alone, separated and suddenly, cornered. They hit the wall of an alley and Hamid yelps.

“No!” he wails, pressing his hands up against the wall. “Zolf!” The cleric catches up, cursing as he sees the dead end. They turn to see the silhouettes of their pursuers at the other end of the alley. A goliath and a few humans, wielding large improvised weapons.

Zolf curses again, in Ancient Greek this time, as he grips his trident. Hamid and himself are good, but they can’t take all of them at once. Hamid especially, as spellcasters tend to be, is somewhat squishy. Zolf scowls, moving to stand in front of the sorcerer, his trident pointed forwards as the goliath stalks down the alley.

“Back off,” Zolf growls, readying himself.

“Or what, dwarf?” the goliath laughs. “Gonna poke me? This is a real weapon.” He swings the cudgel he has violently down towards Zolf who can’t shift in time. Catching him hard on the shoulder, Zolf clenches his teeth as pain fires through him, white-hot. Behind him, he can hear Hamid cry out in fear, and he doesn’t stumble, swiping out violently with the trident. It makes the goliath step back, but he just laughs, throwing his head back.

“I said back off!” Zolf yells, thrusting his trident forward enough to catch the goliath slightly. It barely scratches him and then he realises his mistake.

The cut only serves to infuriate him. One of the other people takes a swipe at Hamid who jumps back with a squeak, but he’s uninjured. Trident still held out, Zolf throws out a hand to cast Icicle at the human who had gone for Hamid, at the same time that the goliath swings that club again.

It catches Zolf hard across the ribs and he hears the crunch as they splinter under the blow. He doesn’t even know if the Icicle has hit. Stars spark across his vison as the pain threatens to overwhelm him, but he can’t leave Hamid.

“Zolf!” Hamid gasps behind him as the cleric wobbles. He wants to tell Hamid to run, but where to? They’re caught here, with nowhere to flee to and Zolf is struggling to breathe. He really doesn’t know what to do. He knows they can’t take all five of these people and he sees the look in their eyes. They would be much happier to just beat them to death than they would be to let them go. Glancing around desperately, Zolf moves to cast a spell, praying that it will do something, anything.

Then Hamid does something rather strange.

Zolf watches, awed, as the halfling steps in front of him and _growls._

“I’m only going to say this once. **_Run._** ” His hands grow long, clawed and vicious. Across his neck, Zolf can see burnished scales appearing and Hamid’s voice is low and rough in a way it had never been before.

The thugs take a step back as Hamid’s now clawed hands glow with magic, yellow gold.

“I said **_run!_** ” he roars, and Zolf is astounded at how angry and fierce their little halfling sorcerer sounds. The scales across his neck ripple with his fury and Zolf can see more patches across his hands. The goliath stumbles, clearly surprised by the sight of Hamid’s magic.

“What, what the-” he manages to gasp out before the halfling flicks out his fingers, releasing the Magic Missiles into his chest. Hamid _snarls_ , deep in the back of his throat. The other members of this group begin to back off as they realise that the two of them might be more difficult to deal with than they had previously anticipated. The goliath is wounded, and it only serves to make him angrier, but he swings wide with the club, leaving him open for Hamid to rake his clawed hands across his chest.

They’re only short claws and he isn’t very strong, but the shock of the cut makes the goliath move back. He stares at Hamid in silent horror as another growl slips from the halfling’s throat. Zolf’s jaw is open. He has seen Hamid’s claws a couple of times now, but he has never seen him grow this furious. Never seen the halfling - who is prone to crying in stressful situations or vomiting at gore - be so angry, so vicious.

The goliath seems to sense the tide turning as he glances over at his now retreating group. Hamid doesn’t even speak, calling the magic to his hand once more. And it is enough to force the goliath to leave, disappearing out of the alley.

“Hamid?” Zolf says, trying to force the panic out of his voice. Hamid turns around to face him and Zolf’s eyes widen.

His face has several patches of brass-coloured scales, crawling over his neck and cheeks. His eyes are no longer the deep, rich brown they should be, but a vibrant piercing gold.

“Hamid,” he repeats, reaching out a hand to the halfling.

“Zolf, are, are you okay?” Hamid replies immediately, looking down at where the club had hit Zolf’s chest.

“Ah, it’s nothing. Broken ribs,” he assures him, but the dwarf can feel how quick his breaths are. He takes a moment to mutter a prayer to Poseidon and heal himself. “All better now. Are you okay?”

Hamid has just appeared to have noticed the transformation.

He stares at his clawed hands.

“Oh, by all the gods,” he squeaks and grips his throat. “I growled!” His claws dig viciously into the soft dark skin of his neck. “Zolf, what does this… what does it mean!?” The cleric can hear the panic rushing up in Hamid’s voice as his eyes slowly return to brown. “Zolf!” he manages to wail, tears already falling.

Zolf does the only thing he can think of to do.

He reaches forward and pulls Hamid’s hand away from his throat, wrapping him up in a tight hug. The halfling sags in his hold, beginning to cry in earnest as he buries his face into Zolf’s shoulder.

“Shh, Hamid, shh, we’ll work it out,” he murmurs, as the sorcerer clings to him. Zolf just lets him for a brief moment, before he realises that Hamid is beginning to hyperventilate, his breathing sharp and fast through his panic. “Oh gods, alright. Hamid! Hamid, look at me, you’re panicking, you have to breathe.” The halfling whimpers but doesn’t calm down, still sucking in air too quickly. The cleric shifts back, forcing Hamid to look at him.

“Listen to me, Hamid, can you do that?” A nod. “Alright, I need you to breathe with me. In… and out…” Zolf takes his hand and presses it over his own chest so that the sorcerer can feel the slow rise and fall of his own breaths. It’s still a claw and there is a sharp scratch as it catches on his chest, but Zolf doesn’t flinch. “In… and out.” He watches as Hamid forces his own breaths to slow, tears still pouring down his scaled cheeks.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispers as finally he forces his breathing level.

“I don’t rightly know,” Zolf replies, gentler than usual. “But we’re going to work it out, alright?” Hamid nods, sniffling and then launches forward to give Zolf a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he mutters, head pressed into Zolf’s chest. The dwarf just awkwardly rubs his back, somewhat unsure with the situation. Hamid leans back and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand before realising it is still a claw. With a scowl, he concentrates for a moment and the claws shrink back into his own hands.

“You had scales too. And your eyes were not the right colour,” Zolf mutters, gruffly. The halfling blinks and bites his lip hard, tears welling up in his eyes again. Zolf panics a little, not quite sure how to help. It’s not something he has any ideas about at all. “We’ll get it sorted. I promise you.” Hamid just nods, sniffling quietly.

“Thank you,” he repeats, and his voice is so soft and sincere, it throws Zolf.

“Thank _you_ ,” the cleric parrots right back. “Saved us back there.” That makes Hamid smile, just a little bit as Zolf turns back down the alley. “C’mon, let’s go find the others. I hope Bertie hasn’t gotten into any more trouble.” The sorcerer doesn’t respond, doesn’t laugh and lament Bertie’s bad habits; he just sidles up next to Zolf and hunches over. This is less unusual behaviour for Hamid, but it still upsets him. He just… doesn’t know what to do really.

Zolf glances over at him and sighs a little. Despite all of the fire, Hamid seems unsure and afraid in this situation, feeling out of control. He can understand that. He doesn’t know what is happening and his body is changing without his consent or knowledge. That must be terrifying. Without really thinking about it, Zolf reaches down and grasps his hand. The halfling jolts, looking up at him but Zolf just nods, turning forwards once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hamid smile as he wraps his fingers tightly around Zolf’s. Slowly, they head back together and if neither of them lets go until they reach Sasha, well, who was there to question it?

**Author's Note:**

> Please come hit me up on Twitter or Tumblr, HistoriaGloria!


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